PROUD
LADY
NEW BORZOI NOVELS
SPRING 1923
Star of Earth
Morris Dallett
Downstream
Sigfrid Siwertz
Ralph Herne
W. H. Hudson
Gates of Life
Edwin Björkman
Druida
John T. Frederick
The Long Journey
Johannes V. Jensen
The Bridal Wreath
Sigrid Undset
The Hill of Dreams
Arthur Machen
A Room with a View
E. M. Forster
PROUD LADY
NEITH BOYCE
NEW YORK··ALFRED·A·KNOPF
1923
COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY
ALFRED A. KNOPF, Inc.
Published, January, 1923
Set up and printed by the Vail-Ballou Co., Binghamton, N. Y.
Paper furnished by W. F. Etherington & Co., New York.
Bound by H. Wolff Estate, New York.
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PROUD
LADY
I
Across the ringing of the church bells came the whistle of the train.Mary Lavinia, standing in the doorway, watched her mother go down thewalk to the gate. Mrs. Lowell's broad back, clad in black silk, herblack bonnet stiffly trimmed with purple pansies, bristled with anger.She opened the gate and slammed it behind her. The wooden sidewalkechoed her heavy tread. She went down the street out of sight, withoutlooking back.
The slow melancholy bells were still sounding, but now they stopped.Mrs. Lowell would be late to church. Mary listened, holding her breath.She heard the noise of the train. Now it whistled again, at thecrossing, now it was coming into town—white puffs of smoke rose overthe trees. The engine-bell clanked, and the shrill sound of escapingsteam signalled its stopping.
Mary listened, but there was no cheering, though a number of people hadgone to the depot to welcome the little knot of returning soldiers. Sheremembered the day, three years before, when the company raised in thetown had marched to the train—there was plenty of cheering then. Nowperhaps half a dozen of those men were coming back. The war was over,but the rest of them had been left on southern battle-fields.
Mary stood looking out at the light brilliant green of the trees in theyard. It was very quiet all around her. The house always seemed quietwhen her mother[2] was out of it, and now there was a lull after thestorm. But she was breathing quickly, intent, listening, shivering alittle in her light print dress. The spring sunlight had little warmth,the air was sharp, with a damp sweetness. In the silence, she heard therustling of a paper and the sound of a slight